


I Used to Shoot You Down

by bblgumbby



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Conversations with Ghosts, Death in the first chapter, F/F, F/M, Ghosts, Good Lucius Malfoy, Good Narcissa Black Malfoy, I mean like really slow burn drarry, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Multi, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Oblivious Harry, Slow Burn, lots harder to save the wizarding world without the malfoys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-09-01 15:03:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16767490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bblgumbby/pseuds/bblgumbby
Summary: Colin Creevy is the unfortunate soul that finds Draco Malfoy's corpse. His pale skin has taken on a grey tone and his eyes are frozen open. There is blood at his lips, much like there is everywhere else in the bathroom. Creevy's first instinct is to snap a photograph, but he thinks better of it, running off in terror to find Mcgonagall, to find Pomfrey, to find any teacher that can help… Because Draco Malfoy has been murdered in the 6th floor bathroom.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Teaser chapter to see if anyone is interested!  
> Thought about this for quite a while and finally set out to write it.  
> Haven't written anything HP for almost 5 years! Enjoy.

When Harry followed Malfoy into the 6th floor bathroom, he didn't entirely know what he was going to say, only that he's finally going to confront him. 

He pushed through the morning crowds, keeping his focus on Malfoy's quickly retreating back. Something ugly twisted in his chest-- something angry and bitter, black with fury at Malfoy and all he stood for. He followed him up to the 6th floor bathroom and watched for a handful of moments as Malfoy gripped the edge of the sink, hunched over the porcelain. He was as pale as his dress shirt, and he was sobbing; choked off, gut-wrenching sobs, the kind that would eventually make one sick. The ugliness inside of Harry reared its head at seeing Malfoy so weak-- and it broke through the surface.

He called out to Malfoy, something accusatory about the locket and Katie Bell, and quickly dodged a stinging hex as Malfoy went from broken to defensive in the blink of an eye. They duel, hiding behind rows of toilet stalls and sinks, some wordless hexes, some Dark spells. An Unforgivable was on the tip of Malfoy's tongue when Harry let loose a loud cry of “Sectumsempra!” The Prince's book had said ‘only for enemies’, and Draco was, in this moment, Harry's greatest enemy.

The spell caught Malfoy straight in the chest and threw him backwards. Instead of creeping closer to investigate what the spell had actually done to Malfoy, Harry turned on his heel and left the bathroom, adrenaline coursing through his system. He didn't return to the Great Hall for breakfast, instead going back to his dormitory to think about what other evils were quickly coming to get him. If Malfoy was bringing cursed objects into Hogwarts, who knew what would happen next.

***

What Harry didn't see was the damage his spell had done. Large cuts had appeared on Malfoy's chest and torso, like he’d been flayed open with a sword, and he was bleeding. He lay on the flooding floor of the toilets, choking as he began to bleed out. His shirt became a frightening ruby red, and his blood tainted the water around him. 

Malfoy's light grey eyes stared up at the ceiling, terror clutching at his chest as hot tears slid down his sharp cheeks. He was dying. He would die on the floor of this bathroom, not at the hands of the Dark Lord for failing to complete his unwanted mission. But he was still scared, he didn't want to die… He didn't want to die.

***

Colin Creevy is the unfortunate soul that finds Draco Malfoy's corpse. His pale skin has taken on a grey tone and his eyes are frozen open. There is blood at his lips, much like there is everywhere else in the tiled room. Creevy's first instinct is to snap a photograph, but he thinks better of it, running off in terror to find Mcgonagall, to find Pomfrey, to find any teacher that can help… Because Draco Malfoy has been murdered in the 6th floor toilets.


	2. Youngblood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus Dumbledore does what he does best, which is control his precious chess pieces. 
> 
> Malfoy's body is taken care of, and only 4 people know of his death, Harry Potter decidedly NOT among them.
> 
> Something peculiar is happening in the 6th floor toilets...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't wait, so here's chapter 2!
> 
> Not every update will be this quick, but I'm excited about this fic!
> 
> I'm trying to keep all the characters as true to the books as I can, but keep in mind it's been a while since I've read them. If anything or anyone seems OOC, let me know! Or if I'm doing a good job, please comment!
> 
> Onwards!!

When Malfoy didn't show up to classes that day, Harry was certain the blond git was holed up in the hospital wing, moaning about being bruised from Harry's hexes. All in all, Harry was glad not to see him. 

He didn't tell Ron or Hermione about the incident-- he didn't want Ron's heavy claps on the back for humbling Malfoy, nor Hermione's commentary on the legality of non-sanctioned dueling on the grounds. Besides, he figured Snape would be docking dozens of points from Gryffindor soon enough for it, and Harry would explain himself then. 

The last time a student had died in the castle, poor Myrtle Warren had seen the Heir of Slytherin's basilisk head-on and perished on the spot. Albus had only been deputy headmaster at the time, and he knew the decision to keep Myrtle’s death a secret had not been an easy one for Headmaster Dippet, but widespread panic through the student body had to be circumvented. 

Overall, the situation had been handled both gracefully and callously. Myrtle Warren had been buried quietly and her Muggle parents Obliviated to think their poor daughter had died in a car wreck. The students were told it was suicide.

Now, with the body of Draco Malfoy under a stasis charm in his office, Albus found himself in quite a similar mess. Minerva and Poppy had been shocked-- horrified-- though the boy had been neither witch's favorite student. 

He had known that Draco had been tasked with his death, and failure to kill him would result in his own torture and death… But surely this was not Riddle's work. He would've known if Death Eaters had broken through the castle wards… Which brought about the more concerning question: Who killed Draco Malfoy? 

“Albus--” Mcgonagall starts, finally tearing her gaze away from the young man's body. Her posture is stiff, her eyes wild, and Albus knows she is frightened for the rest of the students. “How could this happen? Who would do such a terrible thing?” 

She glanced back at the body and closed her eyes, leaning against Albus’ great desk. “We-- what do we tell the students? The staff? Severus? The boy's parents?” Her tone had taken on a steely quality. The Malfoys would not be so easily Obliviated. 

Albus bit his lip and stroked his beard, closing his eyes for a minute to think. Even in death, it seemed that Draco Malfoy would ruin his plans. “Heal his wounds, Poppy. We cannot deliver him to his parents in this state.” 

The medi-witch began murmuring healing spells, waving her wand over the boy's chest and torso. She was on the verge of tears, remembering the times he'd visited her for a fever or Quidditch accident. The slashes across pale skin slowly healed, the blood removed from his shirt in the same actions. Now, it looked as if he were merely sleeping. Poppy covered her mouth with her hand, a shaking breath rattling through her as she began to cry. 

“Thank you, Poppy… and please, keep this to yourself for the time being,” Albus said quietly, dismissing the distraught medi-witch. She descended the spiraling stone staircase and Minerva turned to face the Headmaster. 

“Albus--!” She hissed, approaching him as he turned to the Malfoy boy’s body. So young… burdened with a task he was destined to fail… “What are we to do?” She asked again, certain that the Headmaster had changed his plans. And so he had. 

“Contact the Malfoys immediately, Minerva. Tell them only that I must speak with them about Draco, and that it must be today. Please.” With that, Albus and Draco were alone in his office. He stepped closer to the body and a quick flourish of his wand unbuttoned the cuffs and sleeves of the dress shirt. 

As he suspected, there was no Dark Mark on the boy’s left forearm. No, Riddle didn’t care enough to Mark him, but there were telltale scars from at least one session of Crucio curses by his hand. Albus sighed and shook his head. It was time to invent the narrative. 

With his wand, he made long vertical cuts up both of young Malfoy’s forearms and the shirt was once again stained with blood. The deed done and the body sufficiently mutilated, Albus stopped the bleeding with a quick spell. Albus summoned a house elf to pack all of Draco’s possessions while the other students were in their classes. 

Colin Creevy would be Obliviated for the boy’s own peace of mind, perhaps Poppy, too. The Malfoys would be told that Draco had suffered multiple breakdowns over the past few weeks-- stress from Riddle’s impossible assignment and mounting war tensions-- and had slit his wrists in the toilets this morning, while everyone was down at breakfast. The less people that knew about this the better… Everything would be fine.

***

Something was missing from the castle that afternoon, though none of the students could put their finger on it. The Great Hall, corridors, and staircases were completely devoid of ghosts. Even Peeves was nowhere to be found, his antics put to a temporary halt. 

Something peculiar was happening in the 6th floor toilets… The doors had sealed themselves from the inside, not letting anyone inside. Coldness was seeping out from beneath the wooden doors, leeching through the stone walls of the castle itself. 

Every ghost that called Hogwarts home was gathered in the 6th floor toilets, talking quietly to each other. Each one of them had felt a pull in their chests they couldn’t ignore, a pull that summoned them to the tiled room. It looked more like a cathedral in this moment, so filled with people in fine silver garments. 

A pinprick of white light appeared in the center of the room, in the center of the ghostly congregation. A hush fell over them all as they watched the light grow and shine steadily brighter. To an untrained eye, this light looked like a glowing Patronus charm, though it really looked more like a silver Obscurus. 

In a blinding flash of light, a figure seemed to materialize, just as opaque as his spectral audience. His hair, face, and skin looked largely unchanged-- as pale in not-quite-death as he was in life. The most striking thing about him were the large slashes across his scrawny chest, easily visible through his shirt. Much of him was soaked in silver that shimmered when it caught the pale spring sunlight. 

The other ghosts of Hogwarts shook their heads and sighed as their newest member let out a frightened sob, his angular face hidden in pale hands. Moaning Myrtle approached him and held him close as he shook like a leaf. Like each of them, he had unfinished business that wouldn’t let him leave this world behind. But unfinished business such as theirs was just as terrifying as death, sometimes even more so. Myrtle rubbed his back, letting Draco hide his face in her neck as he cried.


	3. The Kill (Bury Me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Malfoys are summoned to Hogwarts to receive the worst news imaginable.
> 
> Dumbledore continues his dangerous game...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!
> 
> I originally wanted this to be longer, but I figured chapter 4 could be a nice mix of perspectives instead.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Any excuse to flee the Manor was a good one. Since his catastrophic failure in the Department of Mysteries-- failure to acquire and deliver the prophecy to the Dark Lord-- life had not been kind to Lucius Malfoy, nor to his wife and child. 

The Dark Lord had seized control of the Manor over the past summer, nearly a year under his control now. Lucius was forced to play host to at least a dozen of Voldemort's elite and most trusted followers, feeding them, housing them, all while under constant ridicule and surveillance of the evil madman. 

The Dark Lord had taken his dignity, his wand, even his bed for his own personal use… And that was all before he tortured Narcissa and Draco for his failure. 

In short, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy was a broken man. He would even come at Albus Dumbledore's beck and call if it meant escape from the prison he had once called home. They were lucky the Dark Lord was preoccupied and didn't much care if Lucius and Narcissa had a parent/teacher conference about their brat. 

They Apperated into Hogsmead and Floo'd to Mcgonagall’s office from the village, since she had sent the letter. The older witch had an expression that Lucius couldn't quite place, though he was sure his appearance was part of it. Honestly, he looked like he'd escaped Azkaban and he knew it.

“Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy,” Minerva began, then paused, her lips pursed. “Lucius. Narcissa. Follow me, and quickly.” 

The corridors were all blessedly empty, the students all in their afternoon classes. Minerva lead them to the Headmaster's office. The stone gryphon leapt away from the entryway, but Minerva stopped them.

“This is… For what it's worth, I am deeply sorry for what you are about to see.” Was that a hitch in her voice? The married couple shared a look and a sinking feeling settled in both their stomachs. They ascended the stairs and opened the door.

Albus Dumbledore stood in front of his desk, facing the Malfoys as they entered the room. “Narcissa, Lucius, thank you for coming so soon… I’m afraid I am the bearer of… the worst news imaginable.” 

He approached the cot, which was out of immediate sight from the doorway. A simple flourish of his wand removed the cloth that covered Draco's body. 

At the sight of his only son lying dead on the cot, Lucius Malfoy went cold. He fell to his knees as his wife-- his lovely wife-- screamed and ran to the body. She clutched him close, laying over his body, cradling her son's pale face in her hands. She sobbed, every inch the broken woman she had become over the past year… but this was the last straw.

Tears rushed to Lucius’ dull grey eyes. He looked up at Dumbledore, breath caught in his throat. He couldn't breathe-- he couldn't breathe. “What-?” He croaked, tears slipping down his gaunt face. “No-”

“He was found in the toilets this morning by a 4th year Gryffindor student… We believe it was suicide. His wrists were slit, and not by magic.” He paused as Narcissa wailed, burying her face in her son's neck. Of course… this is a lie, but the Malfoys didn't need to know that. Albus saw this as an opportunity to sway two more powerful people towards his side. If he could gain two more spies like Severus, it could be the turning point of the war. Riddle wouldn’t know what hit him.

“I think it would be best if this stayed between us. The rest of the school, I don't believe they need to know of Draco's suicide. You could simply say you pulled him from Hogwarts, transferred him to another school.” The only place they would be transferring Draco was to the grave.

It would be seen as a deep shame on the already tarnished Malfoy name, the wizarding world thinking the heir had taken his own life… Albus knew this, and Lucius knew this. 

Narcissa still sobbed over the body of their son, but the two men were silent. Lucius slowly stood and approached his wife and child. Though Draco may not have died at the end of the Dark Lord's wand, he was still responsible for his death. 

Draco Malfoy's task had been an impossible one and his father knew it to be another punishment for failing Voldemort last year… And now, Lucius stood in Dumbledore's office, in front of the man his son was tasked to kill, with his son lying dead in his wife's arms. He could not summon the energy for fury. 

“I took the liberty of having the house elves pack his belongings, Lucius,” the old man said, folding his hands behind his back. The other man only nodded mutely, staring down at his wife and child. There was nothing he could do for his boy, now. No spell can reawaken the dead. 

With a bit of strategy, Albus Dumbledore could have two more players on his side in this war-- two more spies with nothing to lose, hell-bent of getting revenge on the man that drove their darling son to suicide. ‘Perhaps,’ Albus thought to himself, ‘The Malfoy boy was worth more dead than alive.’

Narcissa's sobs had quieted over the course of a few minutes. Now, she laid protectively over her son's body, herself still as stone, and Lucius had the terrible vision of losing them both. That could not and would not happen. The Dark Lord would plague him no longer.

It seemed obvious now that the Malfoys could not return to the Manor. Merlin knew what those squatters would do if they knew of Draco's suicide-- what they might do to desecrate his grave or his body. The Manor itself held little reason for them to stay, besides a handful of sentimental items. The vast majority of the Malfoy wealth was hidden away in Gringotts… One quick chat with a house elf, and they would never set foot in the Manor again. 

Husband and wife made eye contact, having thought of the same thing. The Dark Lord had been using their son as a pawn against them, to keep them complacent and in line. Now, there was almost nothing the Dark Lord could do to hurt them. What more could they lose, with their heir dead? Lucius stood and composed himself as best he could. 

“Lucius… I am deeply sorry for this. None of us had known the extent of the strain Draco was under. Being around dark magic for so long… It must’ve poisoned him.” He knew, of course, that Riddle had taken over the Manor and everything in it. “We want to support you. The staff and I, we want to help, however we can--”

“Thank you, Dumbledore,” Narcissa clipped, her mouth drawn into a line. Her dark eyes shone like wet slate. She stood, not looking down at her baby’s body any longer. “Obviously… We need time to grieve… to bury our son. Alone. Because this will be kept between us.” Ever the politician’s wife, Narcissa was only ever as polite as she needed to be. Beneath that, she was steel. 

Albus frowned slightly, but nodded his head. He could not force them to abandon their son, no matter how dead he was. “Of course, Narcissa. We will be ready when you decide to return.” 

Narcissa only nodded and cast a wordless levitation charm on the body of her son, the sheet carefully reshrouding Draco both for privacy and his parents’ sake. With another flick of her wand, Narcissa summoned her son’s belongings to them, shrinking the trunks and hiding them away in her robes. She took her husband’s hand and the two of them approached Dumbledore’s fireplace. She kept a tight grip on her husband and son as Lucius took a handful of Floo powder and threw it onto the flames, muttering ‘Chateau Malfoy’ under her breath as they stepped through, leaving Albus Dumbledore alone in his office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 will be up soon, hopefully. Please give kudos and comment if you're enjoying it!
> 
> Also, I find myself needing a "ghostly name" for Draco, similar to 'Moaning Myrtle', 'Bloody Baron' etc.  
> Wouldn't have to rhyme, necessarily. Please comment if you have any ideas.
> 
> If I use your name, I'll dedicate the chapter to you!


	4. Heavy in your Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keeping Up With the Malfoys returns!  
> Angst all around.  
> Canonical ending of Half-blood Prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, my darlings!
> 
> Hope this chapter finds you all well and happy (cos the chapter itself isn't!)
> 
> Enjoy!

Soft light filtered into the entry hall of Chateau Malfoy. It was beautiful in the Loire Valley this time of year, but neither Lucius nor Narcissa noticed. They were still in a daze, despite the body of their son levitating about two feet from the carpeted stone floor. They could not grieve yet-- they had plans to make, as quickly as could be made. They could not return to their home in Wiltshire, and it was risky to stay at the Chateau for too long. France was simply too close to the action, to the danger. They would have to move. 

“Leesy!” Narcissa called, voice a touch strangled. The crack of a house elf echoed through the entrance hall on the tail end of its name. 

“Master and Mistress! Here much earlier than-- oh! Oh! Young master-!” The poor French elf had just noticed Draco, its huge eyes quickly filling with tears. “Oh terrible day! Wretched day!” It wailed, wringing its wrinkled hands as it shook on its bare feet. “Wh-what can Leesy do f-for Master and Mistress?” The elf seemed to remember itself, even amongst the shock.

“Leesy,” Narcissa spoke, closing her eyes. “The Manor is lost and we won’t be returning. Please, pack our things… and Draco’s… and bring them here. Make sure you aren’t caught. Quickly!” And the elf Disapperated with a crack. Lucius was already kneeling by the fireplace, calling in favors and throwing his name around to get a Portkey ready for them. The Manor was not an option, and they weren’t sure which Death Eater would think to look for them in France. It was too risky. He stood shakily and brushed the soot from his trouser knees. 

Husband and wife faced each other, pointedly not looking at the body of their son, now lying still as a statue on the long mahogany table. “Untraceable international portkey,” Lucius rasped, raising a hand to rub over his stubbled chin. “It will be delivered by Floo in the next 15 minutes, according to Kershaw. Portkey takes us to Concord, we Apperate to Amherst.” To the secret family estate in New Hampshire. It had been a wedding present from a well-off uncle of Lucius’ mother and therefore did not bear the Malfoy name-- it would be untraceable, should the Dark Lord or Dumbledore come looking for them. It would be their safe haven. They would bury their son there. 

Leesy did not like this one bit. Malevolent magic seemed to seep from the walls and foundation and all manner of undesirable characters roamed its halls. It was despicable what these evil people had done to her Master and Mistress’ home! These evil people probably killed young master Draco… The elf worked quickly to shrink and pack all the valuables and clothes her Mistress had asked. Young master Draco's was the easiest-- Leesy cleared the entire room. Satisfied, the elf Disapperated from the cursed manor with a crack. 

Leesy approached her Master and Mistress, holding out the small bag containing their belongings. “Here, Mistress-- Leesy has done the collecting.” Narcissa thanked the elf and tucked the bag inside another of her hidden pockets. The elf nervously wrung its hands as Lucius accepted the portkey-- a broken men's wristwatch-- from the green flames in the hearth. “Will Master and Mistress be returning?”

Narcissa took a long breath in and sighed. “Truthfully, I don't know. The risk is too great for us to stay-- and if anyone asks where we are, you must say you haven't seen us. We were never here, Leesy. That is an order.”

“Of course, Mistress. Leesy has not been seeing Master or Mistress since two summers ago.” 

With the elf's promise, Narcissa smiled. Lucius cleared his throat and took his wife's hand, her other hand grasping Draco's. The time came for the portkey and Lucius uttered “Thank you, Leesy,” before giving the password. In a gut-twisting pull, the Malfoys were gone from the Chateau, and it was like they'd never even arrived. Tears slipped down the old elf's wrinkled face. Poor, poor Master and Mistress… Poor young master Draco. 

The estate in Amherst was much as Lucius and Narcissa had left it some 15 years ago, when they'd last visited. Draco had been a young boy then, taking advantage of the large grounds and his child's broom as much as his parents would let him. They'd escaped some of the fallout of the Dark Lord's first defeat there-- after Lucius’ trial where he'd confessed to being under the Imperius curse to do his bidding. They'd needed time to relax, to replan their lives, to come out of the fray stronger and seemingly unscathed. They had happy memories in Amherst… but their arrival that day was not one of them. 

The wards easily allowed them onto the grounds. They picked a place under the apple tree on the edge of the gardens, a nice distance away from the manicured back lawn of the estate. A few flicks of her wand and Narcissa dug a grave and lowered the body and so buried her baby boy. A headstone was erected in pale and perfect marble. ‘Draco Lucius Malfoy. Born June 5, 1980, Died May 8, 1997. Beloved son.’ 

With the deed done, Lucius and Narcissa held each other tightly. They sank to their knees next to the fresh earth and wept.

***

The rumor mills of Hogwarts produced a number of theories, their metaphorical wheels working at a startling pace. It began, as one would think, in the Slytherin common room. After all, prominent students didn’t just up and vanish every day. That really was more of a Gryffindor trait, in their eyes. But that didn't change the fact that Draco Malfoy had vanished from Hogwarts and, after a few days, people were doing more than just wondering why.

“I hear his father pulled him and had him transferred to Silovikizba**,” a Ravenclaw hissed to their friend group. “With the amount of Dark Arts their family is involved in, it wouldn't surprise me.”

“No no-- they sent him to Durmstrang-- Karkaroff was a Death Eater too. Probably got special treatment--”

“Can’t you see? He's off and bloody joined You-Know-Who! They gave him the Mark and pulled him from school!” 

It seemed that everyone and their auntie had a different theory on where Draco Malfoy went. The most popular theory was, in fact, that he had been pulled from Hogwarts and shipped off to Silovikizba, though the reasoning was still murky. (The whole Durmstrang theory was debunked rather quickly after a few owls were sent to a Romanian cousin that confirmed Draco was not there.) 

Ron and Hermione bickered over why Lucius and Narcissa would sent Draco to such a school-- Hermione thought it was to avoid the war while Ron was firmly set in his reasoning that the Russians knew some Dark magic that English wizards didn't and Draco was sent to learn. Harry, however, believed that Malfoy had run off to his father after their impromptu duel in the toilets and begged to be sent far away from Potter. At the very least, he didn't have to follow him quite so closely anymore, he could focus more on what Dumbledore needed him to do. He had a meeting with the Headmaster tonight and he needed to focus on whatever Dumbledore needed him to do. 

***

They had the locket now. Though they had escaped the cave and the army of infiri relatively unharmed, Harry was shaken. The potion, the pale hands, the freezing water-- Dumbledore Apperated them back to the top of the Astronomy Tower, and they were safe. Dumbledore ordered Harry to head to bed but once the boy was downstairs and in the shadows, he found himself frozen, unable to move or make a sound. Dumbledore cast a quick Notice-Me-Not spell over Harry as thundering footsteps rang out from the staircase.

Death Eaters. A dozen of them. Some Harry recognized-- Bellatrix, Greyback, Dolohov. Snape led them up the stairs and Harry wanted to scream, but Dumbledore's spells kept him silent. 

Harry couldn't hear what Snape was saying to Dumbledore. He didn't know if the Headmaster had used a Mufleato on him as well. He was helpless to save his mentor, his friend-- Then Snape pulled his wand on the old man and cast the curse.

“Avada kedavra.”

The bright green flash of light hit the Headmaster squarely in the chest. He was dead before he even fell over the edge of the Astronomy tower. Bellatrix cackled madly and the Dark Mark began to form over Hogwarts with a crazed slash of her wand. 

The spells holding Harry had begun to lose strength, but none of the Death Eaters noticed him as they walked back down the stairs. Harry was still frozen and silent for a good few minutes before the magic broke. He practically saw red as he fled the scene, running after Snape and his gang of murderers.

***

Running after Snape had done him no good. Even Sectumsempra hadn't taken him down, and Snape then revealed that he had invented the spell. Snape was the half-blood Prince, and he'd set fire to Hagrid's hut for good measure as he fled the grounds.

Dumbledore was… very much dead. Harry approached the body, moving slowly through the gathered crowd of students and staff. With wands raised, the Dark Mark slowly vanished from the night sky. 

The locket… Harry retrieved the locket from his old Headmaster's pocket and soon realized that it wasn't the one Dumbledore had described-- no ‘S’ to he seen. The note inside-- from a one R.A.B.-- indicated that it was a fake, that Dumbledore had weakened himself for nothing…

Harry decided he would finish the hunt for Voldemort's remaining Horcruxes, as Dumbledore had been. He would assure that the Headmaster did not die in vain… He would see this through, and he would kill Voldemort. One scrap of soul at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A (smaller than Hogwarts) Russian school of magic that I had fun making up. :) With ‘silovik’ meaning ‘elite’ and ‘izba’ meaning ‘log cabin’ in Russian, I like to think of it as a badass tight-knit school in eternal winter for badass witches and wizards. Think Illya Kuryakin, but with wandless magic. 
> 
> Welp! Hope you're on the edge of your seat! From here on out, it's all chaos. Abandon canon, all ye who enter here!
> 
> Sorry for the lack of our ghostly lad, I promise he's coming up! (Still taking name suggestions, btw.)
> 
> Comment if you liked, loved, or hated it! Ta for now!


	5. Impossible Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco reflects on his afterlife
> 
> Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts
> 
> We are on the precipice of war...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~○~
> 
> Thank you to everyone who suggested ghostly names for Draco, as I finally got to use them in this chapter.
> 
> The 'winning' name was submitted by lovely reader X... If you're reading this, thank you!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> ~○~

The halls were practically deserted, most of the time. The students abandoned the castle each May and returned on September 1st, leaving Hogwarts with precious few residents over the summer. That year, the students and staff seemed to vanish all at once, what with the death of the Headmaster and the infiltration of Death Eaters so close to the end of term. Were he in his usual mind, Draco wouldn't have blamed them at all… however, being freshly murdered and undead weighed heavily upon his psyche. 

He felt he’d been abandoned by his so-called friends in Slytherin. None of them had come looking for him. They didn't seem overly concerned that he'd vanished in the middle of breakfast. He hadn't ventured into the Slytherin dungeons until after the term ended, but found his bed to be empty… no trunk, no books, no quills and parchment. Someone had packed his things and secreted them away… probably to the Manor.

The Manor. His parents. His task… surely He would've known of Draco's death by now. Would the Dark Lord blame Draco for dying without killing Dumbledore? Would his parents suffer since Draco couldn't? Even after death, there was so much uncertainty in Draco's mind.

And then there was bloody Potter. The Golden Boy. Saint Potter. The Savior. His murderer. 

Whenever Draco thought about it too long, the windows nearby would shake and an anguished wail would bubble up from his chest, rattling the tiles of the bathroom. He eventually calmed himself each time with a shake of his head and a wry smile. He was worse than Myrtle, sometimes, the poor girl. 

Truly, Myrtle had been of more comfort and use to him than anyone, especially since his… untimely death. He sat between two sinks, his knees pressed up against his silver-stained chest. He wasn't much for hovering above the stalls like his friend.

“Why couldn't I have just bloody died?” he asked the room and, by proxy, Myrtle herself. “Couldn't get any peace in death either?” 

Myrtle shrugged and sniffled a little bit. It had been a bit terrifying for her to see Draco's death, and then his recreation. She had been the youngest ghost before him. “Unfinished business, I suppose. That's what they all say.”

“Well I can't right well assassinate Dumbledore if I'm a gh- If I'm dead, can I, Myrtle?” It was hard for him to talk about his spectral state, as it felt somewhat similar to being alive… just less warm, more detached.

He knew four things for certain. One, he was dead, and Harry Potter had killed him. He was a ghost. Two, someone had cleared away his things. Three, Albus Dumbledore was also dead. He'd heard that from the portraits. Four, dark things were coming to Hogwarts. 

If he were alive, he would've been petrified. Death Eaters roaming the grounds, the Mark appearing over the school… for a sweet moment or two, Draco was glad he was dead and didn't have to worry… but then he started worrying about the other students, the innocents, his parents.

Merlin, his parents. 

They must've come to take his body, they must've. He wasn't buried on Hogwarts grounds, he could feel it. He had a hunch he was buried far, far away. Good. Maybe his parents had finally left. 

He fucking hoped they had. That might make it all worth it, if his parents made it out of this war unharmed, alive, and out of the Dark Lord's clutches. He can only hope that's the case.

Now that the students have left for the summer, Draco fully allowed himself to wander the halls, to float more than a few inches off the floor and get used to his new baseline for normal. Myrtle wasn't much for roaming the halls-- she much prefered to travel via pipe, which Draco couldn't bring himself to try-- so he wandered alone. 

He doesn't have a shadow, he noticed as he sat in a window looking out at the Black Lake. The revelation coaxed a small laugh out of him-- the first in so, so long-- and it attracted attention. 

“Poor ickle dragon, his fires don't burn so hot now, do they?” Peeves stared at him from the ceiling, grinning like some cat that got the canary. “Our little Slytherin prince has gone all silver!” He cried, and Draco frowned slightly. 

“Enough, Peeves. The boy has been through enough without your vibes at his colouring,” the Baron practically purred, sliding through the wall of the corridor. Peeves went rather quiet, as if disgruntled, and vanished. 

Draco and the Baron held eye contact for a few silent moments before the other ghost looked away. “You know, that might very well be what you end up being called.”

“What, ‘Silver Prince’?” Draco's face twisted up slightly, as if he were tasting the name itself and trying to decide if he liked it. “I suppose there are worse names…”

“Hmm, yes. Imagine if they tried to use alliteration.” The older ghost chuckles quietly. “Your name doesn't really lend itself well to that.”

“Certainly not,” Draco scoffed, shaking his head slightly. “With my awful luck, I'd be stuck with something like ‘Dead Draco’ for eternity.” Merlin, that would get old fast. His statement drew an even bigger laugh from the Baron, who hadn’t been nearly this friendly with him while he was living.

Merlin, this was his life now. Well, his afterlife. 

“Silver Prince it is, then. I'll pass the word. We'll have you spooking the students in no time, boy.”

“Think I'll keep to myself when they all come back… what with the war on and all.” He ran a translucent hand through his hair. Best to avoid anyone who knew him in life… explanations would be too painful and Draco might bring down the castle with him in his rage and despair. 

The Baron leaned forward and clapped a hand on Draco's shoulder. “Right you are. Everyone has a lot of things to think of, maybe you're right.” He floated off without a goodbye and passed through the wall he'd appeared through. 

Draco knew war was coming and he had a strong gut feeling that it would be coming to Hogwarts. And he couldn't help but worry, living or not.

*****

Harry Potter did not return to Hogwarts that September. Nor did Ron Weasley or Hermione Granger. Instead, they spent the year on the run from Death Eater and snatchers, all the while hunting for horcruxes. The diary, the ring, and now the locket had been destroyed. The Golden Trio had been captured by snatchers and brought to Malfoy Manor.

If the Gryffindors had been paying more attention, or could have afforded a thought that wasn't purely survival, they would've noticed a distinct lack of Malfoys at Malfoy Manor. No Lucius, no Narcissa; only prisoners in the cellar, low-ranking Death Eaters in the hall, and Bellatrix to carve slurs into Hermione in an effort to get information on Harry Potter (who was in the cellar with the others.)

They escaped with Dobby's help, and Bellatrix's dagger had found its mark in the elf's chest even as they Apperated to Shell Cottage. 

They got the cup of Hufflepuff from Bellatrix's vault at Gringotts-- a feat only pulled off by polyjuice and the Imperius curse. They gained the cup but again lost the sword of Gryffindor. 

And so, the Golden Trio once again found themselves at Hogwarts. Neville-- apparently the leader of the student resistance-- welcomed them back with open arms. 

Whispers through portraits reached Draco in his hiding place, the Room of Lost Things. Harry Potter had returned to Hogwarts… and Draco knew he was right: war was coming, and it would be here by nightfall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~○~
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Comments are my bread and butter, so please let me know what you thought! I hope to bring chapter 6 to you soon! Cheers!


	6. I See Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of the Battle of Hogwarts

_If you need to ask, you will never know. If you know, you need only ask._

The diadem. Of course it was in the Room of Requirement-- in the Room of Lost Things. Harry had hidden Snape's potion book there in 6th year, so he knew what to ask for as he paced outside in the hall.

Hogwarts was already at war, the sounds and explosions of duels rang through the grounds. For now, the wards held, but it wouldn't be for long. And then the school would be swarming with Death Eaters.

 _I need a place to find the diadem._  
_I need a place to find the diadem._  
_I need a place to find the horcrux……_

_*Please._

~○~

Draco knew three things.

One, he knew that Helena’s mother's diadem was in his Room of Lost Things. It was placed high atop a wardrobe, crowning a mannequin head with a musty wig. It marked the spot of a few treasures-- most notably a ratty old potions book.

Two, there was something very wrong with the diadem. Draco detested being near it. It was obviously Dark Magic, though he did not know what kind. Prolonged exposure had him feeling at his worst and lowest point. It felt similar to being in the Manor when the Dark Lord had come to stay. Draco suspected that He had poisoned it-- turned the tiara itself evil, if one could corrupt non-magical objects in such a way…

Three… Potter was currently pacing in the hall outside, requesting a room to find a horcrux. The room and indeed the castle itself told Draco so, as if it were asking Draco's final permission to allow Potter in. After all, the castle had witnessed his death. It had been the only witness, really.

_Let him in… let him find it._

And the door opened.

The Room of Lost Things… It was just as chaotic and cluttered as Harry remembered. It would take months to properly sort through everything-- and a flash of silver caught his eye.

Though there was no light, the diadem sparkled high above the mess as if lit with moonlight. Silver-white light illuminated the large blue stone and Harry grinned. Hogwarts made it easy; Hogwarts wanted him to win.

He climbed over a pile of half-broken Edwardian furniture, beginning his climb to claim the horcrux. And Draco Malfoy kept the diadem shining for him, wearing it atop his ghostly head like the silver prince he was, though his visage was hidden inside the mannequin head.

Harry plucked the diadem from the mannequin-- from Draco's head-- and hissed as the now-familiar dark magic of Voldemort's soul tried to affect his mind. Harry-- and indeed Draco as well-- had been too distracted with the tiara to realize that he had been followed.

Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe each threw a hex at Harry, who cursed under his breath and leapt behind the armoire for cover.

There was taunting, threats, but Draco didn't hear them. Potter, Crabbe, Goyle, Voldemort's soul-- it was all too much. When Crabbe cast the spell that set the Edwardian chairs on fire, Draco let out an ear-piercing scream.

_Fiendfyre._

It would destroy the room, eating up everything in its wake, including the Boy Who Lived and the two idiots that Draco had once called friends. He started to panic, pleading with the castle.

“No, no! I need a room to contain the fire-- I need a room to contain the fire!” He called out at the top of his voice, looking out over the ramshackle terrain. He saw Potter find an outdated broomstick and frantically fly for the door, dodging the fire and random spells from Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry fell from his broom as he reached the hallway. The high shrieking was still coming from the Room of Requirement, and Harry assumed it was the horcrux. Acting on instinct, he kicked the diadem back into the room, and the door closed on its own.

The room transformed before Draco's very eyes. Vincent and Gregory were lost-- already gone-- and the Room of Lost Things became a simple stone dungeon. Anything that was on fire in the Room of Lost Things came there, complete with the diadem of Ravenclaw. Draco watched as the 5th piece of Voldemort's soul was destroyed.

Perhaps, he fleetingly thought, they might have a chance.

~○~

The diadem was gone. As was the cup, Ron and Hermione had destroyed it with a basilisk fang in the Chamber of Secrets. The wards had fallen. Death Eaters were everywhere.

Draco had no idea where Potter was, no one did. No one paid Draco any attention, as they were all fighting for their lives. There, in the courtyard, he could spy a handful of redheads-- the Weasleys. Though he did not know what compelled him, he quickly moved towards them.

He saw it before any of them did. Though the twins and the ministry worker Weasley were fighting valiantly, they hadn't seen Dolohov Apperate in behind Pius Thicknesse.

Percy Weasley caught the minister with a nasty hex and grinned. “Hello minister, did I mention I'm resigning?” The twins laughed-- and Draco used all his concentration to push Fred Weasley out of the way of Dolohov's killing curse. The green curse scorched the ground where he stood only moments before.

The twins were momentarily stunned.

Draco summoned his energy and gripped George's wrist-- wand in the redhead's hand-- and pointed it at Dolohov. _“Avada Kedavra!”_ And the would-be murderer of Fred Weasley fell down dead. He released George's wrist and fled the scene, looking for other foolhardy do-gooders to rescue from his fate. He couldn't bear all the death, couldn't bear the thought of more people becoming like him.

_"Harry Potter…”_

Draco hid behind a fallen statue in the Great Hall, feeling every inch the ghost he was as Voldemort's voice rang through the grounds.

_“I now speak directly to you. On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you, rather than face me yourself.”_

That was absolutely ridiculous. Even Draco knew that this wasn't about one boy wizard-- it was about literally every person, and everyone had the choice to fight.

_“There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the Forbidden Forest, and confront your fate. If you do not do this, I shall kill every last man, woman and child who tries to conceal you from me.”_

The spell ended, and Draco already knew Potter would go to the fucking forest and be killed by Voldemort's hand and leave them all to deal with this mess that was the Dark Lord.

But Draco had saved a good number of lives that afternoon… Fred Weasley and his twin brother were quietly talking, away from their family, each asking the other what exactly he had seen; who had cast that killing curse?

Remus Lupin and Draco's cousin sat near the end of the hall, sharing a blanket and looking a bit worse for wear-- she'd have a scar or two to match his, no doubt.

Colin Creevy, as well as nearly a dozen other students were spared a gruesome and too-early death by Draco's assistance. All of them were unsure as to who-- or what-- saved them from a curse or fatal injury, speculating amongst themselves quietly… as the Boy Who Lived snuck out into the forest, under his father's invisibility cloak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the continued support, everyone! Every email I get about a new kudos or comment brings a smile to my face.
> 
> This fic might be on pause for a while, as I'm taking part in the 2019 Drarryland game, and trying to create quality fics from those prompts. (Check out the collection, it's good!)
> 
> Please continue to give support, comments, and suggestions! They help a lot!
> 
> Ta, darlings! xx


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